Troubled Coast A Shallow Place
When at last I found her floating, trifles of her bones denoting a roe between equatorial tides with an image burned into her eyes. A future thought, a liberal whim: a shallow place where all can swim. For all the kids small handkerchiefs to clean their lungs and mangled limbs. So lay down your heads, pull in your nets, forget your pains it’s for the best. You never knew they meant so much, their tired eyes you’ve missed enough. Don’t pluck the field of forget-me-nots. Don’t think these deep loquacious thoughts. Don’t crane your neck and look for me. I’ll bring you home, we’ll leave the sea. In the front yard, there’s an oak tree and a garden where your bones will rest. Now you’re hiding and you’re haunting. See you someday, don’t wince when you see the light.
